Ode of the White Blossom
by Eternal Camellia
Summary: There is no beauty in fighting. Love is not needed to fortify a great warrior. And yet, when the peonies burst forth to embrace the moon, men shall discard their blades to admire their elegance. Kenpachi/OC *CURRENTLY BEING RE-WRITTEN. I APOLOGIZE FOR THE DELAY*
1. Chapter 1

Consider this my first Bleach fanfic, even though I've been in the fandom long enough to know the recent Shinigami makeover.  
I like Kenpachi's new look. Wild, yet cool, and awesome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. Only several of my OCs.

* * *

Chapter One

There was no chance of taking an afternoon stroll that day. A ruthless wind had decided to conduct a dark bank of cloud over the district, and so we hid ourselves in the protection of our makeshift homes. Nevertheless, I was thankful for the change: the summer solstice had been too intense for the past weeks. It made people idle and sluggish. They will demand a respite from the scorching temperature, no matter how trivial or important it may be. A freezing gale, accompanied by a tremendous spray, convinced me to linger beneath the canopy of trees and examine the feral view. When thunder began to rumble in the belly of the storm, the walls of the tiny house shivered with fear, and it stirred my disgruntled comrade from his sleep.

"Tch!"

I watched as he moved into a sitting position. He scratched the back of his head in annoyance, sending strands of damaged hair everywhere. Even in the soft lighting, I could see some of it hang onto the uncomfortable material of his clothes. In the earliest days of our companionship, I had this habit of plucking those wisps without warning. It annoyed him at first, but since we have been travelling together for such a long time, he eventually became familiar with the routine, and was regularly asking me to manage the hard-to-reach places.

He mumbled curses under his breath as he glanced over one massive shoulder. With a heavy sigh, he said, "This storm is gonna be a fucking pain in the ass, I swear."

Without further speaking, he rose to his feet and wandered over to my side using large steps, picking up his beloved katana along the way. He observed the gray skies, almost mimicking my current action. Kenpachi huffed indignantly. I knew he was going to do something irrational just to appease himself. Perhaps he'll fight a gang of bandits, if destiny was on his side tonight. At last, he became aware of my presence: he took one look at me and abruptly walked away. The gesture meant that we had to move about and find an appropriate shelter.

We walked down the hill towards a cluster of houses, where the villagers instantly fled at the sight of Kenpachi's _zanpakut__ō_, and turned at a path that led into the woods. There was an abandoned hut nestled amongst the grove of pine trees. Perennial vines had seized it in a green grasp that it seemed impossible for us to enter. Kenpachi, however, simply placed a large hand on the battered doorway and pushed it aside with no trouble. The climbing plants managed to emit a snapping noise before landing to the ground in a torn heap.

I heard my companion shout from the inside. "Yasumi, get in here!"

I placed one foot into the ramshackle house and the rest of my body gradually followed. There was a pitch black hole in the middle of a pitted room built for cooking and central heating. Whoever the former occupants were, they must have had an ounce of _reiatsu_ if they were capable of eating. I perceived the flutter of heavy fabric: Kenpachi had emerged from what I assume is the bedroom. Thunder continued to roll along the underside of the plump gray clouds, and the winds grew harsher with each passing minute.

"Get some wood to start the fire." Kenpachi told me candidly. "And if possible, gather some food while you're at it."

"Kenpachi-kun...what are you going to do?" I asked.

He glared for a while, but then I noticed he hasn't budged from the bedroom entryway. "I have to take out the trash."

* * *

I met Kenpachi three days after my parents died from an unknown disease. Back then, we joined a large group that got together as one unit. By the time I was six or seven, nearly a quarter of the faction passed away from various casualties, although sickness and famine were the foremost reasons. It didn't take long for the others to pursue the same path as their friends, and when it caught on to my mother, then onto my father, the myriad of emotions that filled me were infinite. I didn't know how to react when witnessing the demise of a loved one. I felt like a bird flapping its wings in a cage, trying to escape. When I was about fourteen-years-old in appearance, death had finally released my family from their suffering, and I neglected their empty husks alongside a dirt road.

Sometime after that experience, I embarked myself on a personal journey. Every now and then, I asked myself the same question: Why am I still alive? Why did I survive?

Then, all of a sudden, a sort of weakness sprouted in the bottom of my stomach. Hunger, I came to find out once I asked a fidgety old man about it, was an agonizing thing to undergo. It hurt me when the dull pain flourished through my limbs, rendering me incapable of prolonged movements for a certain amount of time. But I had to go on, I told myself one night while resting in a hollow ditch. There must be an explanation why I still exist, and I was determined to figure it out.

Zaraki had only one road that went through the villages. It wasn't surprising for me to see several dead bodies littering the terrain. At that moment, I understood that they didn't perish from natural causes: these men had large cavernous wounds that revealed the innards and bones hiding beneath their flesh, their dead eyes glistened in the mid-morning sun. Remarkably, I discovered large, blood-soaked footprints embossed onto the soil, and they were leading further into the dense forest. I trailed those marks with a hand to my beating heart. What lurks beyond the trees? Was it a Hollow? If so, why didn't I run?

A deafening scream ripped through the hushed environment, urging the birds and small critters to run off. My pace did not waver as I approached the source of the sound. A wounded man came into my view: I did not know where his injury began, whether it started from his side and up to his face, it didn't matter much. He fell in front of me with a disgusting smack to the solid ground. A wet substance coated my bare feet and I gazed down to see the same crimson fluid on my toes.

Seconds later, I was enveloped in a huge shadow, and I slowly tilted my head back to see a tall man. His kimono shirt had been slashed open to expose a variety of scars covering the span of his broad chest. Fresh wounds crossed the old, and blood soaked his sword to the blade collar. He was staring at me through dark mass of hair: a shade of gold shimmered in his green eyes. He must have caught sight of my silver eyes, which were fixated on his scarred face with such interest. I couldn't pretend I hadn't been staring at him. He didn't give me a sneer, as if to say that I was an insolent girl, and he didn't look away as if it made no difference where I looked or what I thought. We stared at each other for a long moment, and I felt a chill despite the warm breeze.

Scary Tall Man wiped the flat of his sword against his hakama and immediately sheathed it. The loud clank it made upon returning to its scabbard did not daunt me. I thought he was going to kill me with one massive fist, but then he said, "Why aren't ya runnin' kid?"

Blinking once, I replied, "Am I supposed to, Mr. Scary Tall Man?"

"Hell if I know, most of them should've pissed themselves dry by now," he scoffed. "So? Why aren't ya screamin' your head off yet?"

"I don't know either," I answered honestly. Then I said something that garnered a bemused reaction from him: "Why did you kill them? Did they do something wrong?"

He didn't seem to know what to make of this situation. Perhaps he wasn't used to such talk. In the end, he exhaled through his nostrils and gave a long sideways glance as he explained, "They were beggin' for a fight, and it was hard not to refuse. I was in a good mood anyhow. But they were half-assed shitheads who can only wield fucking toothpicks."

I searched the devastated area, noting the shattered blades peppering the forest floor. Scary Tall Man huffed and turned away: I imagined that he would ignore me from then on. But then, he stopped and looked back, asking me if I was coming or not. I raced to his side almost instantly, and equalled my pace to his large stride. He was still watching me and I felt my face beginning to burn from the unwanted attention.

"Got a name kid?" he asked me.

"Do you, Mr. Scary Tall Man?" I countered.

He sneered at last. "It's Kenpachi," he replied. "Now stop using that stupid ass nickname or I'm gonna kick your face in."

"If you say so...Mr. Scary Tall Man," my boldness earned a menacing growl from the monstrous man beside me. "It's Yasumi, by the way. My name is Yasumi."

* * *

A loud thump brought me back to the present. Kenpachi must have bumped his head into something, since he was spewing profanities in every direction achievable. It couldn't be helped, he never asked for such a height.

"Oi! Yasumi, where the fuck are ya?" he practically shouted. His unruly _reiatsu_ sent a few specks of dust rolling.

"I'm out here."

He stepped out of the house and glanced at the three mounds of dirt that were decorated with seasonal flowers. I had knelt in front of those graves, feeling a heavy weight upon my shoulders, as if the deceased were pulling me towards them. During my scavenging, I managed to collect berries, pears, and a peach. I decided to present the last fruit as an offering for the mother and child. Clasping my hands together, I bestowed them a little prayer before returning to the house. Kenpachi was in the middle of slicing deer meat apart with his katana when I came to kneel down beside him. He was strangely angry: he seemed disappointed that I was paying my respect to someone I barely knew.

"Ironic isn't it?" he said, referring to my childhood days. "Ya didn't even bury your parents' corpses when they died, so why bid prayers to a stranger?"

"I suppose it is satirical. But the baby never expected death to take him as well." He let out a laugh that was meant to mock me, but I paid no heed to it. "Besides, I have a reason not to mourn over my kin or pray to them for good luck and whatsoever."

"Whatever, I don't wanna hear any of it." He brusquely replied. "By the way, there's an old _shichirin_ in the kitchen, go get it brat."

After settling the heavy portable stove in between us, we stuffed it with charcoal and a tinder bundle I made out of dry leaves, grass, and twigs. Luckily, the late family kept a stone and a flint to light the fire. While the food was being grilled, I passed a fleeting look at the graves and frowned when the first drops of rain made the soil dark. Kenpachi had an entire hind leg for himself, which he ate with much delight. My own serving of food was placed aside to cool down. Outside, the storm developed further into a heavy shower with intense winds: one roof tile had slipped from its place, breaking into several pieces upon contacting the ground. In the corner of my eye, Kenpachi had removed the stove to start a fire that will keep us warm throughout the night.

"Kenpachi," I began whilst handing him a ripe pear. Normally, I'd peel the skin first, but my grotesque friend sank his teeth into the fruit. A trail of fluid trickled from the corner of his mouth and descended down his bare neck. "The trees are bearing autumn fruits now. It's been six months since we've met. Then it'll be winter, and spring will come next..."

"What're ya ramblin' about kid?"

"You always mentioned about Seireitei and the shinigami that live there," I told him, and, with my gaze lowered to the floor, I added "when are we going to leave Zaraki?"

For the first time in a while, Kenpachi pondered over his next actions. The half-eaten pear was still grasped in his massive hand. He did not look at me when he whispered, "Soon" that was followed by "when ya learn how to keep your _reiatsu _at bay."

I will be honest with you: I find it difficult to control my spiritual pressure from time to time. Ever since I learned about it, I've been trying to suppress most of it, because uncontainable _reiatsu_ might attract Hollows, who usually struggle to consume those with high levels of power. But the tricky part was to restrain spiritual pressure even in our sleep. For a whole week, I've been kicked, prodded, and shoved by Kenpachi because I had been leaking _reiatsu_ everywhere, and he described the feeling as though someone was running their sharp nails along his face.

"I can't fight every goddamn battle for ya once we move out," Kenpachi explained. "If ya die, then it's not my fault you can't control your shitty _reiatsu_."

"I understand, Kenpachi. Would you like it if I stay in the bedroom tonight?"

He scowled. "Your pressure can punch through walls, it'll make no difference."

"Alright then," I sighed. "Goodnight, Mr. Scary Tall Man."

"I'm gonna make ya sleep outside tonight, ya little shithead."

* * *

**Author's Note:** I fixed Chapter One since there wasn't really much of an impression. I think it's more understandable now.

**To Cousin Toto:** If you are reading this, I can no longer use the word 'tweak' ever since you called it 'twerk'.

**Shichirin **- is a small charcoal grill.


	2. Chapter 2

I'm sorry if this chapter is a bit short.

However, I'd like to thank the people who are now following this fanfic. I hope I do not disappoint you.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach, only my OCs. Although I do want to own Kenpachi's new hairstyle.

* * *

Chapter Two

Around midmorning, on the following day, I went off on my own while Kenpachi tried to release his aggression elsewhere. I hoped that he could retrace his steps. He was like a blind dog: when an interesting odor wafts into its nose it'll run toward that direction, only to realize that it can't find the way back without bumping into something. And by his standards, 'something' is comparable to an unexpected fight to the death. I didn't expect to see him again until evening.

There was a little pond nestled underneath a covering of pine trees. The storm had passed overnight, leaving behind a great blue canvas speckled with immaculate white clouds. Since I had no bathing dress, I shrugged off my _furisode_ and swam in my under-kimono. The water felt warm and uplifting. And, with all the tenderness I could afford, I removed the pin that held up my hair and submerged entirely before rising back up. As I ran my fingers through tough knots, I perceived the rustling of bushes. Considering that I was a girl of adolescent appearance, and that my under-kimono embraced my figure like a second skin, I had formed some shapes and textures that should be concealed from anyone, even Kenpachi.

Three men boldly stepped out from their hiding place. One of them, a buck-toothed man with stringy tan-colored hair, elbowed his friend and they exchanged knowing glances to one another. They whispered lewd things that would have gotten well with Kenpachi's vocabulary. I knew that glint in their eyes: a middle-aged man once stared at me that way when I requested shelter from the blazing sun. Sweat had kept me damp, and my skin was aching for a cool cloth. His eyes had travelled down to the small triangle of skin beneath my collarbone, remaining there until I felt uncomfortable. The moment his wrinkled hand reached out to snatch me, I immediately ran.

I wanted to get away at that instant, but the water could delay my movements. So I stood there, with my arms crossed upon my chest, open and vulnerable to their vulgar eyes.

Tan Hair broke into a wide grin. "Would you look at that? Today's our lucky day boys."

His lanky friend stepped forward, and I took two steps back. "C'mon, we've been bored all week, and what we want is a little entertainment."

The last one, Pig-Eyes, nodded in agreement to Lanky Man's notion. I became guarded as they waddled into the pond altogether. Tan Hair reached out first: I quickly dodged his grasp and lost my foothold in the process. It was one of those trivial things that receive a horrible outcome. I tried to recall the things Kenpachi did before hacking his victim in two: he'd grin madly and beckon the opponent to attack first. What about me then? What should I do to repel these goons?

"Why don't you just give in sweetheart? We'll be extra nice to you," said Tan Hair. He placed his grubby hand on my shoulder, and I wished that I had something to sever those fingers off one after another.

Without warning, a force came down and removed the offending appendage on my behalf. I did not need to know who was standing behind me: his disruptive _reiatsu_ sent ripples throughout the pond. I could only imagine Kenpachi's face as he stared down at the quivering man in front of me. In an instant, he lifted Tan Hair by his wrist and sent him hurdling to a nearby tree, creating a loud crack the moment he made contact with the hard trunk.

"What did I tell ya kid? You're supposed to fight your own battles," said Kenpachi. "And why are ya just sitting there on your ass? Get dressed; you look like a drowned rat."

"Tch, let's get out of here!" Lanky Man shouted. He seized his stout friend by the collar of his shirt and abandoned Tan Hair, who was struggling to get back on his feet. The instant he gained his footing, Kenpachi growled menacingly, which made him dart through the bushes like a squirrel, screaming at his comrades to wait for him.

Still soaked to the skin, I stood up and walked to the edge where my kimono was tidily folded and placed on the smooth surface of a rock. I looked back at Kenpachi, seeing the water barely reaching his waist. His weapon was out of its scabbard and was resting on his strong shoulder. He was aching for a fight, but his potential victims were nothing but a bunch of cowards. And he was glaring at me, furiously at that. Whenever I see him looking at me that way, my mind would wander back to the same image of him, on the day he asked me to come along. It was that similar penetrating gaze.

We didn't speak until we returned to the little hut. Again, I offered my prayers to the family and endured the heaviness that came with it.

* * *

A week or so later, I found myself trying to catch a fleeing grasshopper. Kenpachi leaned against an old twisted plum tree, somewhat resting after punching the living daylights out of a few disrespectful men. He was watching me intently, which came with good reason. His eyes focused on my actions, observing the way I cupped my hands together to make an improvised trap for my hopping friend before lunging forward to catch the target. I could feel the insect bouncing inside my hands as I carried it back for my companion to see.

"Are ya tryin' to impress me kid? Try catchin' a butterfly next time." Kenpachi said in a bored manner.

"I can't, they're too quick. And even if I did catch one, it'll easily break in my hands." When he did not respond, I released the grasshopper and watched it hop onto Kenpachi's knee.

He swatted the insect off his hakama and mumbled things I couldn't understand. To my astonishment, a golden yellow butterfly fluttered across his head and landed on his knuckles, which were still covered in fresh blood from an earlier fight. Cautiously, I leaned forward, ready to capture the beautiful creature for the first time. However, Kenpachi moved his hand just a little, and the thing flew away from us. What a pity, I thought. But something so delicate must always be set free.

At last, Kenpachi stood on his feet and did not bother to clean his bloodied hand. "Get up kid; we're headin' to the next village." And then he added, "We should pass two more of them before we make it out of this hellhole."

"Are we really leaving?"

"Don't make me punch your face in kid. Of course we're leaving! I don't wanna say this, but those bastards running Seireitei might be able to help ya with your spiritual pressure. Now c'mon! I'm wastin' time just talkin' to ya."

I followed his movement, quietly taking my place at his side and kept my mouth shut. We spent much of the trip in silence, and there was no thief or bandit that jumped out to threaten us. By late afternoon, we arrived at our destination. The light coming from the setting sun was already beginning to fade, so we both scavenged what little the place provided us for that night. When we climbed a ridge to our little camp on the cliff, I couldn't help stopping a moment to take in the sunset, which painted the sky behind the remote hills in reds and pinks.

"Kenpachi, isn't it pretty?" I said to him. A man like Kenpachi shouldn't be bothered to look at such things, and yet he turned toward it with the same interest as I.

I glanced over my shoulder to show how my hands seemed to glow in an orange color. But then I noticed that he wasn't looking at the sunset at all: he was looking at me. The second he fidgeted, he somehow realized something, and turned away in a rush so quickly that his _reiatsu _made the trees shake in fright. He built the bonfire and directly lay down on his side. The sky was remarkable with its twinkling stars. I could have sat much longer trying to understand what I had seen today, as well as the imminent change regarding our trip to Seireitei.

Nevertheless, I felt this warm feeling of cheerfulness swell inside of me, and I moved to lie down right next to Kenpachi. He and I could never tolerate intimacy when we slept. There would be good distance placed between us, and if we did touch each other, even in the slightest, one of us will rapidly move out of the other's range.

But this time, I ignored our hidden protocol and whispered to him, "You know what, Kenpachi? I think you're starting to like me."

I assumed the bold statement would shock him into opening his eyes, or maybe even turning away. He simply scoffed and pressed his body to mine, dwarfing me in his well-built physique. His breath was warm and moist as it swept my brow, and then a moment later I fell asleep counting the numerous scars on his chest.


	3. Chapter 3

And here is an update.

I just hope it isn't a bit rushed.

If you have any questions about this fanfic, like significance of a certain object or something, please don't hesitate to ask.

I don't bite. Much.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach, only several of my OCs.

* * *

Chapter Three

"Kenpachi, I think I lost my hairpin back at the pond."

"And how long did ya figure that one out?"

I angrily glared at the giant man seated beside me. We settled down at a river bend, watching the currents glisten in the blinding sunshine. For the first time in six months, I was rather attentive of my hair: I've never had it down since it grew past my shoulders. Now, it had reached my waist. Occasionally, I would comb my fingers through the knots, carefully removing the dead strands from the unruly tresses.

Dark brown hair was supposedly nothing to be ashamed about, especially when it was harmonizing with naturally tanned skin. In fact, I remember the elder of our nomadic band saying I was unique, in a sense, and that I should be thankful to receive the gift of mysterious beauty. But he hadn't mentioned anything related to my unusual silver eyes, as if he were afraid to point them out.

"Use a stick or a branch, I don't really care right now." Kenpachi muttered offhandedly.

"You're just bored to death because there's nobody for you to cut down."

"I'm gonna cut ya down, if ya don't shut your mouth."

"I would like to see you try, Mr. Scary Tall Man," I fearlessly answered. "But then again, Scary Tall Man will have no one to fantasize about during the night."

"Tch. Don't think too highly of yourself just 'cause a man is interested in ya."

"Ah, so you do have feelings for me. I am deeply touched, Mr. Scary Tall Man."

When Kenpachi took hold of his _zanpakut__ō, _I quickly moved away from his long reach and broke into a fit of giggles on the pebbly shore of the river. He shook his head with a sigh and rose up to his full height, an act which I impersonated, much to his annoyance. An undeclared conversation pulsated between us the instant he gave me that familiar stare. It was time to go, it said to me. He directed the journey while I tagged along in anticipation.

I thought of the districts that are closer to the center of Soul Society: people say it was strict on terms of law and order. Glancing over to Kenpachi, I began to imagine the reaction of those cultured citizens once they see a disgruntled being making his way towards the gates of Seireitei. There would be a fight, of course. Each entrance had a respective guardian to keep any trespasser away from the capital city.

Not so long after we departed the river, in favour of a winding and desolate road, we chanced upon a corpse leaning against a moss-covered tree. The man's ribs were broader than his shoulders, and the whites of his eyes were yellowish and murky. Kenpachi scoffed to catch my attention: he said that the poor bastard must have starved himself to death.

That same evening, while lying on a patch of cold grass, I tried to picture the Court of Pure Souls as a pristine community, in order to tell myself what I'm going to leave behind. I tend to be restless whenever I have too many thoughts, and as a result I couldn't fall asleep until I had managed to encourage myself that our desires will come true. Thus I sought for the company of Kenpachi.

I crawled over to his side and peered at his blemished face in the moonlight. "Kenpachi, are you awake?" I asked him in a whisper.

He grunted softly and stretched out his right arm on the ground, which meant that I could rest my head upon it. Anyone should have turned away once the unpleasant smell of sweat mixed with blood drifted into their nose. But I didn't, because it was part of Kenpachi's character. Placing my forehead directly under his nose so that I could feel his warm breath, I began to trace the marks on his chest.

"Kenpachi, I admit, I'm a little terrified about the future: Seireitei is different than this wretched place, but we both know which is less harsh and more endearing. Kenpachi...I promise that I'll do what I can to be strong, and maybe...just maybe, we can fight each other to put our skills to the test. It sounds ridiculous, but yes, I would like to fight you Kenpachi, and it probably won't be on pleasant terms either. We'll fight, just the way you like it. But, we shouldn't forget who we are right now: you're the bloodthirsty fighter from Zaraki while I'm the little chatterbox running after your shadow. I'm surprised that I've kept my mouth this whole time I've been talking..."

"Then shut that shithole right now, stupid brat." Kenpachi huffed. "I didn't invite ya to tag along, just so ya can turn around at the last fuckin' minute. We're gonna head over to Seireitei, even if it means draggin' ya by the lips."

"That reminds me: why did you ask me to come with you in the first place?" I gazed at the outline of his face, but alas, the night made it hard for me to see his reaction.

"I'm not answerin' that sort of talk. And if ya don't mind, I wanna sleep!" His muscles tensed beneath my cheek. I sighed and touched his prominent collarbones absentmindedly. "Tch! Fine, I'll tell ya: it's your eyes."

"Why?"

"When that dead guy splattered his blood all over your feet, your eyes were vacant, almost lifeless as him. But when I walked over to see if ya were shocked or somethin', they were full of interest when you stared at me. And the fact that ya didn't run away was kinda new. There was little _reiatsu_ sprouting inside ya, and it would've been a fuckin' waste to leave ya there to die."

"And so the wicked Kenpachi does care after all," I whispered.

"Survivors are just lucky bastards that avoided death. There's a reason why we're alive up to this shitty point."

At that moment, the questions I had asked myself before came back to me from the corners of my mind. _Why am I alive? Why did I survive?_ My fingers halted their actions, and an assortment of ideas invaded my thoughts. Perhaps that is why I had endured pain and anguish for so long: so that I could meet someone to guide me into a better future.

But I should remind myself that fate has always been fickle. Kenpachi is strong, intimidating, and robust: he has everything to become the ideal Shinigami. I won't even be surprised if he becomes a Captain within a year. And then, there was me: a person who can't even control her own spiritual pressure. Am I here, other than to join Kenpachi in his far-fetched mission? If so, I wish the moon and the stars could tell me what lies ahead.

* * *

One late summer morning, I was taking an afternoon stroll through the village and noticed a group of young people gathering around a large house with a thatched roof. Apparently, they were waiting for a man named Okana Setsuo, who was probably an important figure, judging by the excited expressions on their faces. I heard very little of their dialogues, but I came with the idea that this Setsuo-san was a bandit king amongst these individuals. They say he pillages other districts to bring food for the poor, and kills only when it is needed. As I turned away to continue my daily stroll, I heard someone shouting 'Wait!', and I had to be certain that it was aimed at me. And I was definitely right.

A girl of my age ran up to me, carrying an empty wooden bucket. Her body was narrow, but her face was plump and almost perfectly round. Her ink black hair was tied to a simple ponytail, further emphasizing her chubby features. "Aren't you going to wait for Setsuo-sama? I hear he's giving out more than he calculated this season!"

I wondered why she had bothered to approach me. Surely there was an explanation behind it. "I'm sorry, but I am not from here..."

"Oh?" the girl blinked "but I thought that was the reason why you came here with your tall friend. Setsuo-sama is quite popular here in Zaraki as a hero-thief: he steals things to keep us alive. This is why other inhabitants of the district come here and overpopulate the area."

"I see," I replied with a nod. I must admit that my curiosity overwhelmed me all over again at this moment. Moreover, Kenpachi and I have been lacking food for two days. I might as well grab onto the chance before it slips away from my grasp. "Alright then, I'll come. Although I don't have anything to carry the fare..."

"That's alright! We can share this bucket together if you want to. I don't actually have anyone else besides my grandmother and sister, so it's kind of rewarding to have this old thing packed to the brim."

"Thank you for your kindness, Miss...?"

"Oh please no, just call me Tsuruko."

"If that's so, then I'm Yasumi."

"So where's your friend? I saw the two of you playing at the river the other day."

"Oh, he probably had gone off to kill a dozen opponents," I instantly saw the look of terror etched on Tsuruko's face, but I assuredly calmed her by saying, "Or he might be lost right now."

To pass the time, Tsuruko told me how much of her life was spent with her adoptive grandmother and sister. They were quite close, seeing as how her brown eyes seemed to shine whenever she mentioned her in stories. Nowadays, Grandma Kirina has been experiencing pain whenever she goes out to relieve her bladder, and at certain intervals the urine would be so strong it often brought tears in her eyes. I tell her that illnesses like that were frequent in the elderly, especially ones with undetermined disease.

"That is why I'm going to request a special medicine from Setsuo-sama. He doesn't just supply food: he gives medicine and clothing as well," said Tsuruko.

"In that case, I might need a roll of bandages and some ointment for Kenpachi. Who knows how many tried to kill him in vain?" I said with a small smile.

Tsuroko smiled too, though hers was laced with anxiety. "I mean no offense, but how can you endure such a cruel person? Did he force you to follow him on his travels?"

"Kenpachi isn't cruel towards me: it is in his nature to be violent. You can't blame him for it either, since Zaraki is a rather pitiless district, and anyone could kill each other without a second thought."

"I guess it is true," Tsuruko sighed in defeat. "Still, you should be careful around him: he might betray you and leave for someone else!"

"I do not think Kenpachi is really tired of my presence."

Before I could explain any further, the crowd had suddenly turned rowdy, and a young girl was announcing the obvious arrival of a caravan. To be honest, I was expecting Okana Setsuo as a youthful and sharp-eyed man wielding a katana. Instead, I saw an old man with shiny gray hair. He sat upon the bench of a horse-drawn wagon at the front of the group, wearing a smile that was kind and compassionate. Not surprisingly, he was dressed in the finest blue kimono shirt I had ever seen, with trousers that made him look like a noble.

Everyone lined up in pairs, patiently waiting as the henchmen filled their crude containers with provisions. Tsuruko quickly pulled me to my feet and we both rushed to take our place behind a young couple. By the time we were close to the wagons, I took the instance to scrutinize Okana Setsuo: his skin was smooth and tense as a cask, and his cheekbones were like glossy mounds. It was there that he caught me staring at him. I bowed my head to cut off his gaze and turned my attention back to Tsuruko.

"Is there anything else?" A man with large nostrils asked in an impatient tone.

"Ah yes," said Tsuruko "Is there any medicinal tea? My grandmother hasn't been feeling well these days. I'd also like to add bandages and a soothing balm for my friend here."

Tsuruko and I quietly thanked the person who handed the items, and barely took seven steps when we overheard someone shouting Tsuruko's name from the opposite end of the dirt road. A woman in a dirtied dress roughly pushed a few individuals aside to make enough room for her arrival. I learned, from then on, that Tsuruko's older sister was a very impatient and clumsy person, who doesn't care much for personal appearance. She must have been working with coals, because there was a dark smudge on the bridge of her nose. Her dark brown eyes were surrounded in thick eyelashes, which was possibly the only thing pleasant about her features. The rest of her was like eating peach with dried mushrooms: they just didn't go well together.

"Yuika-nee-san, I was just on my way home and—!" The way Tsuruko held her bucket tightly against her chest was quite pitiful to look at; I had to guess that she was frightened of her older sister.

"Don't give me that kind of excuse! Stop giving our supplies to strangers! They are not a benefit to us!" said Yuika.

With hurried steps, she instantly closed the gap between her and Tsuroko, and cruelly tugged on the girl's earlobe. I looked about the vicinity and detected the apologetic expressions each person gave off. Majority of them had turned away in pity. Tsuruko had tried to explain the situation, but her sister Yuika pinched her by the lip so hard that she released her hold on the bucket, and it fell to the ground next to their feet.

"Please," I uttered quietly, even though I knew it wouldn't help much. "Your sister was only being kind to me."

At that moment, Yuika angrily looked at me: she still maintained the painful grasp on Tsuruko. "My stupid sister doesn't have to play nice to animals like you!" Then, facing her sister, she said "Is that head of yours an empty bowl? Pick up the food and go home, Grandma just pissed herself in her sleep."

When Yuika let her go, Tsuruko knelt down to gathered vegetables and returned it in the bucket. She gave me a pitiful glance, and I thought she might calm down. But, in truth, her bottom lip began to tremble, and then her body shivered like the earth before a quake. Suddenly, she ran from us while tears rolled down her round cheeks. Yuika turned to me with a satisfied smile. I could have done something to knock that gesture from her face, if not for the interruption of Okana Setsuo. I had almost forgotten that we were in public.

"That's enough, Yuika. You've done enough damage today," said Setsuo.

"Tch. Just keep that trash away and I'll be on the good side again." Yuika huffed and walked down the path Tsuruko had taken.

The old man released an aggravated sigh before turning to me. He was obviously studying me in a decent method. He seemed like the kind of person who sees every little thing: from the yellow sap bleeding from the trees, to the faint image of a rainbow in the morning mist. I had a feeling that careful observation came with perception and understanding.

"Hiroto!" he said at last. The impatient man with large nostrils approached without hesitance. "Give this young girl everything she needs, including clothes."

"As you wish, Setsuo-sama," said Hiroto, although the look of disapproval was visible in his dark eyes, as if he had no interest in helping.

When his subordinate returned, Setsuo told me that I can come back again if there was anything else I needed. I cordially bowed and thanked him for his kind generosity. When I returned to our meeting spot, Kenpachi was washing his hands in a noisy brook. His right brow had a nasty cut, but he simply ignored it. He eyed the straw container in my hands and asked me if I stole it. But then he proceeded to laugh since that would have been an impossible feat. After we finished our dinner, I quietly watched Kenpachi replacing the bandages he had around his midsection. I reported the earlier incidents to him, and all I received was the usual grunt.

"Everyone's a greedy asshole here, no matter how hard ya try ignorin' it," he explained to me. "Stay away from them, especially that weak-as-hell girl and her bitchy sister. You're just gonna make the situation worst if ya show your worthless ass there."

I had nothing else to say. I gazed into the dancing fire until Kenpachi put it out with a handful of dirt.


	4. Chapter 4

New Follows, New Faves, but no Reviews?

I did not want to resort to begging. However, I will swallow my pride, and fall onto my knees:

Please review, it's very important for every writer to receive even just a small compliment.

Plus with a lot of reviews, a story can grow popular, and this will motivate the person to write more.

I am not kidding.

Reviews encourage inspiration and confidence, and that is already generosity in a way.

Thank you very much.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach. Only several of my OCs, and the plot.

* * *

Chapter Four

It was not our intention to stay in the village, but Okana-san managed to persuade us to remain a few more days. Kenpachi was becoming annoyed. One morning, he cut down the nearby woodland just to appease his temper. He ceased his hacking by the time there were no more trees left standing. I could imagine his thread of fortitude fading away until it was thin as a hair strand. On the other hand, I was likewise suspicious of this extravagant display of benevolence: the old man even offered a little house for us. His intentions were completely outlandish, and Kenpachi hoped that there will be a good fight to compensate the long wait.

"That's it!" Kenpachi shouted as he brought his blade down on a giant boulder. "I'm tired of waitin' and shit, we're gettin' out of here now!"

Sighing, I said to him: "Kenpachi, leave that poor rock alone. It didn't do anything wrong."

"Don't you dare start another fuckin' lecture 'cause I've had enough of those!"

It was far too late: the thread has finally snapped. "Fine, we'll leave. But would it be too much for Mr. Scary Tall man if I could ask for some supplies from Tsuruko?"

He tightly gripped the hilt of his _zanpakut__ō_ and glared at me. With a grunt, he turned away and continued to damage the katana on the rock. I took this as his sign of consent, and thus I abandoned him there.

I was glad to be on good terms with Tsuruko after the horrific incident caused by her older sister. I found out that Yuika spent most of her afternoons gambling with a few other women, leaving her little sister to do all the work by herself. Grandmother Kirina had a room of her own, where it had the strong stench of stale urine. She was growing sicker, Tsuruko had said to me. It won't be long before she passes peacefully. But each time I heard the old lady cry out in pain from the bedroom, I kept returning to that memory of my parents.

"It's a pity though; I wish you could have stayed longer." Tsuruko said while she was putting slivers of charcoal into the stove.

"Our departure is more of an obligation than desire. Seireitei probably needs more Shinigami to balance the scale."

"Oh? You have spiritual powers then?" Tsuruko asked. "It is amazing how you survived all this time."

"Survivors are just lucky people who avoided death. Moreover, Kenpachi said that the people there might help us control our _reiatsu_."

I was halfway finished with the arrangements when I heard a crunching noise outside. Tsuruko raised a hand, telling me that I shouldn't bother, and went to investigate. It turned out to be Hiroto, one of Okata-san's henchmen. He was red and shiny, like a steamed crab, as if he had ran to all districts of Rukongai and back. Then, I overheard him say:

"Do you know where your friend is staying? The one with silver eyes?"

"You mean Yasumi? I hear that she's staying in the forest with her dangerous friend." Tsuruko replied, somewhat trying to intimidate Hiroto not to go into the forest alone.

"Well, go fetch her then, Setsuo-sama is requesting both of your attendance at his residence. Be there immediately."

I didn't like this, but I made sure that Hiroto had already left before I stepped out of the house. Tsuruko was nervous, I could tell by her trembling fist. As I stood there, I thought of telling Okana-san about my leave, since it would be rude not to do so, and I am not Kenpachi after all. We agreed to go down to the village together, despite the horrible feeling in my chest. Tsuruko washed her hands, checked on her sleeping grandmother, and returned to my side.

We were almost to the large house before I realized that this certain visit was different from the ones I have made days ago. Okana-san stood at the wooden walkway, and I was expecting his typical smile. Instead, he was strangely bitter. I suppose this should have been my first clue that things were not going to happen just the way I had imagined.

When he led us to his horse-drawn wagon, I felt the panic sinking in. I quickly seized Tsuruko's wrist, pulling her to a stop, but Hiroto had grabbed me by the kimono collar and forced me and my friend into the transport. I think Tsuruko must have resisted as well, because Okana-san gave a shout, and at the same moment I perceived a loud slap. I turned to her and saw the red mark on her cheek. I certainly had not anticipated this, much like that time at the pond.

We climbed into the back of the wagon and sat down amidst armed men. During the trip, Tsuruko and I didn't speak a word, until we topped the hill overlooking the little village, when all of a sudden she grabbed my arm and pointed at something with her eyes.

"Kenpachi."

I made a move to scream for him, but the end of a blunt knife stopped me from doing so. "Call that bastard and I'll make sure your tongue drops out of that pretty mouth," said the man beside me.

The wagon came to a stop a few minutes later, along the border of Zaraki and Kusajishi. I noticed that there was a crowd of people gathering around a peculiarly narrow man wearing a stiff kimono: he had soft black hair, and held in one of his hands was a cloth bag suspended from a string. Hiroto and Okana-san dismounted from their comfortable bench and approached Narrow Man. They said something to him, and when he turned to peer at us, I decided at once that I was frightened of him.

"We're in luck," said Hiroto, as he returned to the wagon. "Ryoji-san needs two more, and our lovely ladies caught his attention."

I tried to ask him where we were going, but no one seemed to hear me. It was there I noticed aged couples, young men, and even old people, were shoving healthy-looking girls towards Narrow Man like offerings to a bloodthirsty god. They were giving them away, for a price. At this point, Hiroto told us to get off the wagon, pushing us to Okana-san. The hope that once gleamed in Tsuruko's eyes had vanished, cruelly crushed by disappointment and humiliation.

Narrow Man, whose name was Ryoji, seized us by our elbows and brought us to another horse-drawn wagon, pushing the two of us against crying little girls. I buried my face in my hands, and, honestly, I would have cried out in anguish much like the others. But I bit my lip to control the tears and forced myself to ask Ryoji-san about our destination. He did not answer me. The wagon rocked back and forth, forcing its passengers to bump into each other from the motion.

We were travelling for hours on that rickety thing, without food to eat. I may have gone days until exhaustion consumed me, yet this event, coupled with the undying terror and depression, made me hungry. When the wagon did stop, it was only to disband us into mere farm carts. I felt as though we were cattle heading to the slaughterhouse. Tsuruko clung to me desperately since she saw girls no older than ten being torn away from their older sisters or mothers. Regrettably, her fear became real: Ryoji-san snatched me from her tight grasp, and called another man to take her to a place called Kouhana, which was the 25th District in East Rukongai. It would take weeks for them to get there.

"And you," he said to me "you're going elsewhere."

"Won't you please tell me where I'm going?" I asked. My voice trembled, causing the words to falter.

Ryoji-san didn't seem as if he would reply promptly, but after a minute he answered me: "It will depend on your behaviour."

At this, my eyes were filled with tears I had thought long gone. I could hear another girl weeping next to me, and I was just about to let out a cry of my own when Ryoji-san suddenly struck her, and she let out a loud gasp. I bit my lip once more and stopped myself from crying any further that I think the tears themselves may have come to a stop on my cheeks. From there, Soul Society finally turned into a frightening place for me. To ease my nerves, I imagined that day when I first met Kenpachi, but then it was overwhelmed by a disembodied voiced in my head.

"Why should you weep now? You did not cry when you saw him. You did not scream when a man died in front of you. Why show your fears at this point in time?"

I do not know, I thought to myself. Perhaps it was the unexpected change in events: confusion can sometimes turn into dread after all. While trying to soothe myself with this suggestion, I was pushed into a cart that smelled like a pig pen. The girls that were accompanying me on this journey continued their cries while I simply held on to my hopes of seeing Kenpachi again. The minutes ticked: evening approached and passed. Hours turned into days, and then slowly forming into weeks. One of the girls had died from starvation. Ryoji sighed, muttering something about 'deduction from my salary this year', and threw a packet over his shoulder.

Upon discovering it was food wrapped in a lotus leaf, two girls fought each other to have it, regardless of the pale corpse lying next to them. I observed their petty battle from the corner of the wagon, believing that no matter where we go or where we are, people will kill each other over the small things, and that single idea caused a lone teardrop to fall down my cheek. I do not want to be like them. I will fight to achieve a bigger goal. I might have lost track of time, because when I regained consciousness after fainting from fatigue I was alone in the cart, and night had befallen wherever we may be. The body of the unfortunate girl was gone too.

"Ryoji-san," I said in a hoarse whisper, "where are we?"

"Hokutan, the third district in West Rukongai."

I whimpered, not because I was being sent to an unknown place, but because I felt like I cheated Kenpachi. The challenges we've faced now seemed meaningless to me.


End file.
